


simple things

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Lowercase, M/M, Miscommunication, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: an accidental run in turns into a memory. the worst and best kind, full of fresh wounds and even fresher marks that scream "they're mine".antis dni this isn't for you and im sorry if you found it :]
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit
Comments: 7
Kudos: 230
Collections: Anonymous





	simple things

simple goals.  
tommy innit was fueled by simple goals, things he scribbled down to make himself laugh or what he needed to get done at the end of the day, written down in only a language he could decrypt — also known as terrible handwriting. his journal had been tucked into his sash, tight around his waist as he pulled at the thick cloak around his shoulders, secured by a golden chain taut across his chest. the outfit change was sparse, he clung to his red and white hoodie like it was a holy artifact and kept his cargo pants, only adding the layers for warmth in his newfound climate under the wing of technoblade. but he had never been one for sticking around, for playing house, or not going _home_ — where he belonged.

the trip was long.

he was fortunate enough to have arrived to the distant lands as the sun set because had it been any other time he wouldn't have had the patience to sit around and wait to be steeped in darkness. l'manburg was as it always has been. lit up, a glowing beacon of gentle, orange lights and flying banners. always illuminated in the soft embers of floating lights that wavered in the wind, flickering but never dying. tommy stood upon the base of the podium, calloused fingers brushing the exposed planks and the tall longs that kept the country afloat. it was so nice here, so homely.

as he drifted up the stairs, head ducked low and destination straight ahead of him, tommy couldn't help but feel a gnaw of doubt in his stomach. easily, this plan could fall through. just a little slip of ink, the wrong shift of paper, something misplaced. as he pushed open the door left always unlocked, he was welcomed by a whiff of gentle burnings of cinnamon sticks and the lingering aroma of a now quiet fireplace. plants lined the window sills, inside and out. so down the hall he went, shoes striking on wood that creaked beneath his heels at every shifting weight — slinking to the final door at the end of the hall, he wrapped calloused fingers around the knob and pushed it open.

and that's when things went terribly wrong.

tubbo was gawking up at him. a looming figure in their doorway, illuminated by a candles light. their eyes flared as their lips parted, searching, desperate, for something of worth to say. instead, they croak, a shameful squeak of "what" dying on their lips.

tommy's eyes flickered wider, breath catching in his throat as he stilled in the doorway. right in front of him was tubbo. all wild hair, a loosened tie and the top three buttons of their blouse undone, dress top draped over the arm of their chair — looking as if they had poorly filled in the shoes of the president's past. too small, too fragile, too kind.

"ranboo said you weren't here today," he pointed out dumbly, swallowing thick and heavy as the president rose shakily to their feet. their eyes didn't leave him once, trepidation clear on their face as their finger tips brushed the edge of fine cut wood, slowly drifting to the centre of the room. they approached like tommy was some wild animal they had to coax out the open door, left out in the cold again, unwelcome in their space. tommy's head drew back, eyebrows pinching.

"i ... well, i am here now —" they breathlessly point out, gripping the collar of their own shirt as if some pain twisted at their chest, "i'm s—sorry? did you need something?" they whisper as their palm settled onto the desk, tubbo's wide eyes solely focused on _him_. rapt, like they were begging to do something, **anything**.

"if i snuck in here with the fuckin' ... intention to **not** be seen what makes you think i'm gonna tell you?" Tommy defensively snapped, recovering quickly. stand—offish, hackles raised.

"i ... i don't really mind. really. if you need something i can try to get you it," they barter hopefully, lips pressed into a thin line as they stood in the middle of their make-shift study, only lit but the gentle glow of a candle trapped within a lantern. it flickered, casting wavering shadows of the president and their guest.

"no you really can't, it's not exactly something i can just **talk** about!" tommy retorts as he takes a step further into the room, his cloak barely brushing the ground. he looked broader, that much more sizeable in comparison to the tiny brunette in front of him.

"tommy, please." they urge, brows knitting. a hand extends hopefully, detaching from where they gripped at their collar, only to quickly retract right back to their chest at the sneer that takes up tommy's features. he looked hurt. and what struck them in the deepest, most horrific truth, was the fact that it was justified.

"fuck, you _know_ what i want, tubbo! why do you want me to say it out loud? you want to rub some salt in the wound!?"

a visa. a permanent visa, that is.  
tommy wanted a loophole, whether it was genuine or not — written by tubbo or forged. that's why he was here, his ultimate goal, a way back in. it was to scribble something up on his own, to shove it in dream's face and prove upon a lie that he was home and the deal was undone. a dangerous, slip-slide kind of thing, a selfish and desperate thing, guided by tommy's agonizing desire to just come home.

but they both knew what that meant. that meant an angry dream, that meant bloodshed and forgiveness ran dry, that was death and loss that they weren't capable of recovering from. that was a risk they knew tubbo wasn't going to take.

"i ... tommy, i had no choice _— i_ wish i could, but i can't. you've gotta understand."

"why does it fucking matter to you!? he'd only want me!" tommy groans, hands throwing up into the air in exasperation.

"we don't know that!" tubbo states firmly, jaw clenching.

"i'm pretty sure i know that dickhead better than you do, tubbo. he **uses** you, but he wants _me_ dead, so if he wants to kill me then i want it to be _here_ ," tommy states matter-of-factly, eyes narrowed as the brunette visibly shrinks under those words. they quickly collect themself, but the flash of grief had not gone unnoticed.

"tommy ..." they whisper, eyeing tommy like he were some charity case they were too late to throw their pity donations at. his head tosses in a scoff.

"just — shut the hell up, tubbo," tommy growled lowly, eyes passing over the president, narrowed and borderline predatorial. they feel the path burn into their skin, how it lingers on their eyes and trails to their lips, follows the bob of their throat as they swallowed thickly, continuing down their body.

they saw it, felt it under their skin and on the tip of their tongue. this tastes like a conversation gone wrong. though the bitterness between their teeth instead felt like heat, went down their throat as molasses, burning it's trail. it's all fire and heat, a flame begging to be put out.

"you want me to shut up?" they rasp, voice unsteady, careful. tommy's eyes narrow, searching them for something. for an ulterior motive to the odd question that sounded strangely like a challenge.

"then make me," they whisper, breaking the silence that hung for far too long. the air was strangling, heavy in their lungs as they choked on tommy's words. saw his lips twitch to speak and yet they ultimately closed every time.

tommy's eyes snap up to meet theirs — realization arching his brow. it cocked slightly, deep blue orbs searching tubbo's now flushed face. they both knew it was an out, a plea to find something that would mean the world to them even once they've parted. to reflect, to look back on this moment building higher and higher — that neither would regret. a half step guided tommy further into the room, dirt smearing on the waxed floor. tubbo's teeth sink into their bottom lip and their lashes flutter, averting down as if in a quiet, wordless display of saying _please_. whispering _take me for everything i'm worth, whatever's still left that you need, i'll give it to you_.

a switch was flicked. tommy lunges forward, crashing their lips together and tubbo, who until this point hadn't thought about kissing tommy in far too long, tossed aside the notion of wanting their best friend in a way that certainly wasn't platonic, couldn’t think of a single thing they wanted more in that moment than precisely _that_. going from inertia to abrupt movement, tubbo stumbled back as their feet scrabbled against the spruce floors, dress shoes doing nothing to slow their movement. breaking the kiss which hardly deserved that title, they heard their blouse rip where tommy pulled on it, both of them colliding in a flurry of limbs. the chaos was familiar — only now they weren’t fighting, sparring, or giggling sharp words back and forth in light banter.

tubbo hit the back of their head on the desk with a hiss before tommy stuffed them against the dark oak, following suit and covering tubbo's body with his own. his movements were frantic, as if he expected to be chastised and shoved away at any moment, like a dog desperately chewing on something he knew he wasn’t supposed to, trying to eat as much as possible, as fast as possible.

a tongue pried tubbo's lips open, wrestled with theirs and desperately claimed their mouth with possessive licks, groans echoing in tubbo's ears and it took them a moment to notice they didn’t _only_ belong to tommy. they too were gasping, moaning, open mouthed and wholly taken just by one desperate kiss. they accidentally dug their fingers into a sore spot on tommy's shoulder and nails scratched over their stomach in response, leaving burning welts, so they did it again and clawed at aching muscles on the blonde's back, which earned a snarl and a sharp bite into their lower lip. the pain was freeing, in a way, distracting them from the fact that they had no idea what they were doing and no intention to find out.

tommy kissed like he fought — with all he’d got, sloppy, dirty, untamed. tubbo was getting dizzy trying to keep up, barely registering the hands pulling on their clothes, tearing at their top until it was effectively off, wrestling the waistband of their dress pants over their hips. their blood was gushing loudly in their ears, their heart beat a hammering staccato rhythm, the rest of their body reacting too late to anything that was happening, flailing a bit, making an effort to catch any part of tommy and missing. he was a force of nature above them, restless, incapable of stopping, unwilling to pause and reflect. the kisses were now fervent, both of them panting into eachothers mouths, moaning lowly, lost in the sensations and ignoring everything left unsaid that hung over them, something to talk about later — surely.

only when tommy's fingers closed around their twitching cock did tubbo realise how aroused they were, desperate for release — something to gain out of this. their hips jerked into the touch, lifting off the wood and rolling into the tight grip, a choked moan clawing its way from their throat. how did this happen? since when did they desire tommy like _this_? when did they graduate from wanting to place featherlight kisses on his face and wake up next to him and whisper soft good mornings? when did it become desperation? they broke the kiss as those long, clever fingers started moving, jerking them slowly. just the way they loved it, a subtle twist to the wrist on the downward stroke, all the way from the base to the head, dragging the foreskin over their tip with a squeeze, keeping a tight hold. tommy _must_ have watched them before, caught them in times they thought they had been sneaky, alone, late at night, two fingers buried deep inside them as they mewled and gasped. he did this perfectly — the revelation fuelling the lust threatening to overtake them, eyes fluttering.

the pleasure didn’t last long, tommy was obviously too impatient for that. he sat up and removed the lower half of tubbo's clothes, breathing just as heavy as they were, refusing to make eye contact while he shuffled between the now naked legs, examining his best friend, sprawled out beneath him, for just a second. he then leaned over and dug through drawer after drawer, muttering a terse "where the hell ..." before coming up victorious — lube drawn from a cabinet, whose sight made tubbo's hole pulse and their cock twitch, a shamefully pavlovian response to which they cursed themselves for it (and for tommy knowing they had this, exactly where they had left it). it wasn’t that they didn’t want to share this with tommy right then and there, not after the mere skim of his warm, damaged skin set them off like this, but they'd hoped for a quick, heavy session of swapped kisses or curious hands jacking one another off. nothing major, a simple, shared moment after which they could talk, unimpeded by their lust for each other. they had hoped for something less drastic than _this_.

“what are you doing?" they whined out, despite knowing _exactly_ what tommy was doing as he coated his fingers in oil, eyeing tubbo's milky thigh hitched over his shoulder hungrily.

“d-don’t you think —” a hand was laid over their mouth, effectively silencing them as the blonde towered over the small president.

"nod if you want this. i might lose my shit if i hear _anything_ but moaning from you, i swear," tubbo whimpers into the palm pressed over their mouth, giving a timid nod. a finger was pushed inside right to the hilt, the sensation both intimate and threatening as tommy leaned over them, trapping them with his body and sucking on the side of their neck as they whined weakly.

“just let me fucking have this,” he whispered and added another finger to the stretch, moulding tubbo around his digits, moving his other hand from their mouth to their throat, caressing it lightly even though the gesture was unmistakably dominant, “don’t say anything. just let me have this.”

all of this was going too fast. tubbo hadn’t really been in control of any of it from the moment their back met their desk, scattering papers, though now they were clearly shown just how much they never had been. the most worrying aspect, however, was that they didn’t mind in the least. they melted into the opportunity to relinquish their agency, be swept away by tommy, allow him to pour out everything he’d bottled up until now. because they knew, and trusted to the very end, that if they asked tommy to stop — he would. at any point.

the fingers curled and reached further, seeking something as they were made to open for him. they gasped, shuddered, clenched around the digits, making tommy's eyes darken and repeat the motion, all of his grinding and stretching proving too impatient. he withdrew his hand as they gasped for air, pulled his own erection out, oiled it up and then, suddenly, there was a moment of pure calm. both were staring at the place where they could be connected any second now, tommy's breathing was laboured, his face full of twisted longing, tubbo feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet willing to give up this part of them. they spread their legs further after a timid second, lifted one of them to allow for better access and tommy scooted closer, the opportunity to reflect going about unused by both of them. the head of his cock breached tubbo slowly, the flesh hard and unyielding, hot and thick, sinking into them wordlessly. they were being silenced by the thick cock inside them while tommy worked it in with small thrusts, every single one going a little deeper than its forerunner, moulding tubbo around him as the president's nails scrabbled helplessly on dark oak. their lungs had been robbed of air, their head throwing back at one particular push deeper, thunking loudly as they sucked in a tiny gasp that only caught in their throat, shaking. the breaths were punched from their chest, robbed of oxygen as the thick cock inside them demanded they give way to him. tommy gives one deep push, hips meeting tubbo's ass, and everything crumbled, falling into place.

it forced the air out of their lungs in a shaking moan, both the feeling of being filled so thoroughly as well as the knowledge that it was _tommy_ doing so, adding to the thrill and the guilt and the overarching lust. this, whatever it has been between them, felt like a fitting conclusion to the chaos of the weeks since tommy had been exiled, they had blinked once and now they were impaled on tommy's cock, trembling under him and loving every second of it, wanting _more_ , so they watched their best friend with half-lidded eyes brimming with tears as he pulled out almost all the way and then slammed back in, wrenching a broken noise from their throat. growling as he repeated the motion, prompting tubbo to squeal and hold on to the edge of the desk beside their head with both hands for support. tommy himself wasn’t much quieter while he thrust in so hard he rocked tubbo's body and shook the desk every time, his expression a mixture of elation and despair, as if all his earthly wishes were being fulfilled yet he’d have to pay with his very life in the end.

they could hardly bear looking at each other, so tommy bent down once again, suckling at their throat while keeping up the brutal pace, making both of them moan and tubbo writhe, push up their hips to rub their hard dick on tommy's stomach, rolling their head to the side to try to hide into their bicep as they whimpered and mewled.

“You love this, don’t you?” tommy grunted in between thrusts. his voice was gutteral, cracking more than usual — and yet he was right, it was mind blowing. the urgency combined with the feral, base pleasure of nothing more than getting _fucked_ created a heady outcome, intoxicating, nerve-wracking. tubbo nods frantically, throat baring as they let out an open mouthed moan, hiccuping as tommy buried himself inside them roughly.

“such. a fucking _. whore_.” he stressed each word with a sharp movement, wrenching a sobbing moan out of tubbo who in turn wrapped their shaking legs around tommy's waist, now meeting his hips every time, muscles in their abdomen and legs twitching. they couldn't tell if those words hurt or fueled their ever growing desires, and decided that was a concern for another day.

they never would’ve guessed tommy could be this loud, groaning and huffing right into their ear, venting all that pent up frustration and yearning, making the desk creak and their skin slap, one hand on their hip, the other beside their head. he was helplessly chasing his release, egoistic as if he still expected tubbo to stop him any moment now, rough and almost violent.

he was the exact opposite of ranboo who had been nothing but kind and courteous while at tubbo's side. tommy instead refused to let tubbo talk, taking whatever he wanted, making this fast and hard and tubbo had never been this turned on in their whole life. because **this** was genuine, unprecedented _need._ no second thoughts, no ulterior motives — if anything, this _was_ the ulterior motive.

tommy seemed to be getting close, if his breathy, growled noises and his irregular, sloppy rhythm were any indication, so tubbo squeezed a hand between their bodies and started stroking themself, concentrating on the feeling of being filled so well, the way tommy's dick rubbed over that sensitive knot of nerves deep inside they had only recently discovered, the familiar build—up of pleasure now mind-blowing and unforgiving that made their legs tense up, their breath short, their mind muddled.

"ah—hnng—nnh-pleease ..!" they beg helplessly as they feel it. they'd obviously misjudged the timing, because tommy came soon with a series of broken moans, his cock throbbing and pulsing, coating tubbo's insides white which was a whole other turn—on, only they wasn’t anywhere near their climax yet, as hot as this uncontrolled, desperate fucking had been.

or so they thought.

after tommy had finished filling them with his cum and riding out his orgasm, both gasping loudly into the ringing air — he continued moving with a low groan, nibbled at tubbo's ear and breathed, “come for me. come on.”

tubbo felt it, a push additional to the dick still inside that alone stretched them wide open, another finger entering and filling them, rubbing over sensitive nerve endings and making them see white. their back arched all by itself, their lips parting into a high moan, their hand _flying_ over their weeping cock, brushing against the soft skin of tommy's flat stomach, pushing themself even closer to the edge. teeth pulled at the shell of their ear and warm breath made them squirm with a stuttering, broken noise they had no idea they could make. then there was _another_ finger demanding entrance and tommy whispered: “fuck, tubbo ... baby. come for me.”

so tubbo did. they ground their hips against the intrusion and reached their orgasm with a loud sob and a shrill gasp, frantically jerking themself off and holding tommy's waist in an iron grip with their legs. their vision _actually_ went black for a heartbeat or two, so intense was the lust spreading through their veins, accompanied by the feeling of hot cum coating their stomach. they felt everything around them keenly, tommy's hoodie had ridden up and his cloak surrounded both of them, the coarse textiles of his cargo pants on tubbo's sensitive inner thighs, the lips on their earlobe, the palm resting on their chest, the cock pushed inside them, all enhanced and peaked with pleasure, every sensation adding to the forcefulness of their climax that had their eyes rolling back into their skull and their throat baring.

“there ya fuckin' go”, tommy rumbled out, “holy fuck.”

and tubbo's hand couldn’t stop moving as it milked them for every last drop, until they were completely exhausted — unable to feel anything else anymore, whining breathlessly. they were left empty, only twitching occassionally in the aftershock.

tommy allowed them to catch their breath before he pulled out, but when he moved to withdrawl entirely, tubbo grabbed the back of his neck and tightened their legs and hissed: “don’t you _dare_ run now.” so, tommy stayed, resting his forehead on tubbo's shoulder and said nothing while their heartbeat slowed and blood quietened, a scorching heat reduced to a low simmer.

was there anything to say? tubbo knew now, their friendship and love had always been enough and yet being separated like this was what broke tommy. they should’ve known. they had to put him back together now.

“can we talk?” they whisper against Tommy's ear, face buried into wild, blonde locks as they feel sleep weigh their eyelids. they fight it by shifting, sinking further on the cock still inside them. tommy twitches in response, a brief thrill giving his cock a hopeful throb. tommy grunts, teeth gritting.

“no," the blonde curtly responds into the hollow of their throat. their legs relax, slipping down the backs of tommy's thighs before flopping over the edge of the desk, boneless.

"tommy i—"

"you're sorry. i know. so just ... let me come back." tommy whispers, voice muffled into their skin as he presses a slow, almost pleading kiss to their collarbone, suckling a mark — gentle and yet rough, demanding and yet timid. a reminder. he already knew the answer. he knew tubbo did as well. they both always had.

"please come visit," tubbo murmurs instead. tommy almost flinches when he feels the pained twist to their gentle, breathy words, underlying hurt somewhere buried deep beneath the surface. unsaid whispers of _im so lonely without you_ and _theyre all leaving me_ linger on the president's tongue, unspoken.

"i will," tommy declares, "you come visit too."

"you know technoblade would kill me," tubbo retorts with a bitter, yet tender laugh.

"well, you know the _blade_ — that's how he makes friends an' shit," tommy snorts.

tommy leaned himself atop tubbo, crowding himself into their space wordlessly. the thick weight of his cloak wrapped around the two, warm and kind as tubbo finds themself buried into the fur collar. it was forgiving, unlike the nipping cold outside. it was exactly what they needed.

they cling onto tommy until the blonde peels away. they cling on, even as he begrudgingly joins them to clean up in the wake of their frantic grinding and rutting, they cling even as the sun rises and tommy says he has to go.

they cling even when he's gone — to fleeting memories and his softest snickers and low quips while they splashed about in warm water and shared a small cup of scorching, bitter coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> they're so in love it hurts.
> 
> i also half assed a lot of this oof


End file.
